


Keepers

by helgeraki



Category: The Borrowers - All Media Types, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fluff, M/M, Past Character Death, Size Difference, i apologize for being gay, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helgeraki/pseuds/helgeraki
Summary: Leone's been living in an "small" house for God knows how long; borrowers aren't the best timekeepers. Little (no pun intended) does he know he's getting a roommate.(or fisherman!bruno meets borrower!abbacchio and other small creature kids and them become gay)





	Keepers

**Author's Note:**

> this is so self indulgent aaaaa  
hey gay people! i dreamt of this the other night and my g/t / borrower loving ass had to write it down .... i am a freak  
there are a lot of merfolk fics tho ... so i don't really feel bad. sorry for plauging the jojo ao3 page hahaha

Leone is grateful for the bean that decided to have a cellar.

Leone doesn't know much about wine besides the fact that it makes his grim thoughts go away for a little while. It tastes good too, especially when the only other drink in the house is water, and the refrigerator is short circuiting and the water will become lukewarm soon enough. He dreads that day. The only water worse is lakewater from outside polluted with tadpole shit and coral.

He takes another drink; pauses. The moon shines overhead; maybe it's seven. Borrowers are notoriously bad at reading time, so Leone just has to guess. Either way, it's dusk.

_How long has it been?_ Leone mindlessly ponders on his life while he sits on the edge of the kitchen counter. Countless sunrises ago, he was born, his mother and father looking at him with candied eyes. A few sunrises after that, he was a child, helping his mother prepare stew with the carrot his father borrowed the night before. Father was out every night, but his mother sang to him every night before bed, reminding him that Father was safe. He was smart, he was skilled, and every morning he'd be back with sugar, flowers, and a lozenge for his boy.

Leone started borrowing after what felt like some eternal sunrises. His father told him he was probably 16, and that he was ready to borrow with him. He jumped at the chance; most borrower children do. And he was quite proficient at it, too. Maybe it was because he had no other children to play with, and nothing else to do, but he'd always return with some kind of treasure; a tiny tea kettle or a feathered pen. Father handled the needs; Leone handled the gifts.

One morning, Leone wakes up; he yawns, stretches, and changes into his makeshift garments. He walks into the kitchen, expecting a strawberry or apple slice on a plate for breakfast. He's greeted by no one. He freezes. Tries not to panic. He checks the rooms one by one. His parents are nowhere to be found. Except for when he walks out to the garden and sees their remains scattered on the grass.

Leone ages ten years in an instant. He's wide-eyed, getting his bare feet dirty in the mud but _who gives a shit i have to go_ and he runs, so fast that his knees feel like jelly and his stomach clenches. And for three years, he fights for his life in the great outdoors, brawling with rats and birds, eating berries and getting little sleep. He almost dies more than fifteen times, but the kid's got resolve, and he always makes it out by the skin of his teeth. He cries when the moon rises. The death of his mother and father is always on his mind, and it makes him feel as small as he is. He is weary and grizzled when he finds a little cottage after sailing for a month, and he feels joy again when he finds it to be empty.

It looked as if the previous beans were rushed out of their home, if the fresh vegetables indicated anything. Leone imagines what could have happened when he's going to bed. Maybe they were discovered by the government and had to move to Guatemala, or the husband's jealous lover tried to shoot his wife, or they won a mansion overseas and left with bags in tow. All these things he learned from the box in the living room. It plays pictures, and Leone could look at the beans without fear of being caught.

Still, Leone's lonely, without anyone to talk to. He's safe now, but he misses the life he had, where he was well fed and loved and could always find something new. It's felt like a year, he collects, since he's arrived here, and nothing has changed. He just wishes some breaktaking thing would occur, and soon. He sighs, finishing the last red drop of alcohol. He stands up sluggishly and heads to the matchbox he uses as a bed, thinking of what food he could eat at the next dawn and-

There's a click. The door opens. Leone snaps out of his daze. He stays perfectly still.

_____

Bruno is twenty and has hope running through his body.

He bought this house a month ago, not letting the fact that the last family who resided there vanished bother him. Nothing seemed to be able to; he was finally independent. His father taught him everything to know about fishing, and he wouldn't let his old man down.

Most would say he didn't look like a fisherman. His short black bob and slender figure was vastly different from the old, plump man that everyone thought of. Bruno was charming, and he hoped that would help him sell in the market.

It's late when he arrives at the cottage; his watch reads 11:00 PM. Groggily, he rubs his eyes and fishes the key out of his shirt pocket. He fumbles with the keyhole; it's a bit rusty, but the door eventually opens. He flips the light switch to find that the inside looks better than he imagined. It's rustic, and the furniture is themed with black and purple hues. _You can admire your new living room later, Bruno. Go to bed,_ and he can't deny the alluring thought of sleep from himself.

He passes through the living room, the dining room, the kitch-

Something's on the counter. Something like - a doll? Bruno inches closer to it, his eyebrows furrowing and-

The doll's eyes move. The doll's eyes MOVE.

Bruno's breath is caught in his throat. This isn't a doll, it's-

The little person chokes out noises, shocked sounds, and scampers towards a little rope in the corner, grabbing it feverishly and climbing, never taking their eyes off of Bruno, who just stands there, mouth agape.

By the time Bruno regains control of his senses, the person is gone. He tries to come up with an explanation to what he just saw, each possibility making less sense than the last.

He inhales, and lets out an elongated groan. What a wonderful housewarming present.

**Author's Note:**

> backstory shmackstory what can i say  
damn i had a lot of fun with the borrower logic ngl  
again i am sorry very much so


End file.
